


Iron

by silverdragyn7



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Blood Loss, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverdragyn7/pseuds/silverdragyn7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In episode 9x19, Alex Annie Alexis Ann, Sam suffered from extreme blood loss. This is his perspective and subsequent recovery from the blood loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [agelade](agelade.tumblr.com)
> 
> This was written for agelade's prompt on tumblr, to explain how Sam recovered from the blood loss he suffered in episode 9x19.

As the blood slowly drained from his veins, Sam cursed how stupid he had been to get caught. He hadn’t told them who had done the killing, but in the end that didn’t matter, because it seemed they were determined to kill them both. His thoughts began to spiral from there, skipping from one thought to another, leaving him listless, but then, as the vampire checked the blood flowing from the tube, Sam realized he was suffering from blood loss.

“Tapped this keg,” the vampire said, turning to his brother, “Get the short haired one ready.” So much of it seemed surreal to Sam. He could barely focus on the vampire right in front of him, let alone what was going on across the room. He heard the thunk of boot hitting body, but try as he might, he just couldn’t focus. As he sat there, the blurry vision started to change, becoming black at the edges. If only he could do something, just move a little, he felt like he would be better. But no, he had lost most of the blood in his body, it wouldn’t be long until he passed out, and then died. They were too far away to get a transfusion quickly, and Dean likely wouldn’t be in a sympathetic frame of mind at the moment. With a start he realized that Dean had not only recovered, but had taken out one of the vampires already. And didn’t that make him feel just stupid. Here he was, the reason they were caught, tied to a fucking chair, bled out and dying. Essentially the damsel-in-distress. Again. His thoughts and vision marshaled together enough to realize that Dean was now fighting the other vampire, but then the black started to creep along the edges again. He mentally pushed against the black, at first in vain, trying desperately to keep from passing out. For a moment it seemed that nothing was happening, but then the black receded and Sam was able to see again. Just in time to see Dean get the upper hand.

“Look at me,” Dean growled at the vamp he had pinned. When that didn’t work he shouted, “Look at me bitch.” The second the vampire’s eyes focused on Dean he severed his neck, and Sam started to lose his vision again. This wasn’t good. Dean wasn’t acting at all like himself. And Sam didn’t know what to do. Going back to the way they had been before wasn’t going to work, not that it ever had in the past. Sam had forgiven him long ago, but forgiveness had always led to more of the same patterns, and with everything else falling apart, more of the same was not what he needed. He pushed again at the black, forcing it to relinquish its hold on him, just in time for Dean to come over. These intervals seemed to last forever, and yet it seemed no time had passed at all.

“Dean,” he managed to say, grimacing as Dean started to undo the duct tape. Really was there anything worse to tied up with than duct tape? Rope may burn, but you could at least move in it, and it didn’t hurt like a bitch when you pulled it off. Vaguely Sam realized that his pain perception was all off, due to the blood loss. Normally pulling duct tape was a minor inconvenience, not this all consuming agony that was pulling the black back around the edges of his vision. Really, couldn’t he just push the black away and have it stay gone? In the distance he heard Dean say, “Yeah, I know, you wouldn’t have done the same for me.” Sam grimaced again, but this time from more than pain. Would Dean forever be misunderstanding him? He had not meant that he wouldn’t save his life, nor that he wouldn’t be happy to have his own life saved. But there were ways and means that he did not approve of. It seemed like Dean had conveniently forgotten that the last “angel” to possess Sam had been Lucifer, Lucifer who had not only tortured him in the Pit — memories that he still had, but generally recalled vaguely, not because they were nearly gone or were anything that could be forgotten, but because there were too many to remember clearly — but also before they had managed to stop the apocalypse — when Lucifer had used his body for horrid things, and allowed him to watch. And Gadreel had done that again. Why didn’t Dean understand? He felt violated, dirty. And it was clear that Gadreel hadn’t just been a passenger, because there were things that he knew, that an angel shouldn’t know. But through this another thought surfaced. They hadn’t been alone. Jodi was still here, somewhere, and the fact that she hadn’t stumbled onto the scene at any point was not a good sign.

“No, no,” he struggled to say, when he had pushed enough of the pain and black back. “Jodi.” Sam could tell Dean had realized as well, when he stopped fiddling with the duct tape for a moment, and then went at it faster. Sam tried to help as best he could between the blood loss and the fact that he was still mostly tied up, but he wasn’t sure he was actually much use. Each movement brought more pain, and Sam cursed the loss of his high pain tolerance. Beyond the pain of the duct tape and the hose that Dean ripped out too quickly, he seemed to ache in every muscle, every joint, every bone. And there was a deep seated ache that he was only just recognizing, because he had pushed and pushed and pushed it away until he hardly noticed it, until now. That ache was for blood. Demon blood, of course. He didn’t feel any particular desire for the bottles of his own blood sitting at his feet. He never told anyone, but the craving, the desire for demon blood had never gone away. As any recovered addict would tell you, they were still an addict, they just made a choice, daily, not to go after their drug of choice. In Sam’s case, his will, his own iron control kept him from going after Crowley when he had been locked in the basement, and hadn’t that been a test of control. With a groan, Sam fought back against his own thoughts, his cravings, and the blackness. Blood loss was playing havoc on his time perception again, because it had been no more than a minute or two until Dean had wrestled him free of the duct tape and Sam had recovered a modicum of his control. Dean levered him roughly to his feet and supported him to the stairs. The rough treatment brought the black flooding back with a force, but Sam continued to fight it back. They needed to find Jodi before he passed out. He needed to make sure she was safe before he died. Because Sam was sure he was going to die this time. But still he continued to fight against passing out. They made it downstairs just in time to watch as Jodi beheaded the last vampire. Dean walked forward, leaving Sam barely holding onto the stairwell.

The next couple of hours passed like a blur to Sam. He struggled to watch as Dean helped Jodi make a cure for Alex. Then there was the stretch of watching her fight through the new genetics that had tried to take over her body. Through it all Sam waited for the blackness to slip past his control, to flood his vision, for him to pass out, that precursor to the death he was expecting. Except it never happened. As Sam continued to try and watch, he noticed that first the black receded, then the blurry vision. By the time Jodi had thought to call the station to find out what had happened there, Sam only had the blood craving and a monster headache left. The craving he would have to wrestle with for the next however long until it was back in submission, but he wasn’t too worried about that, he’d done it before. The headache he could live with for now, planning to crush it with painkillers later. Dean didn’t seem to find any of this strange, but then again, it seemed like he hadn’t been paying attention to much other than hunting recently. And Sam needed to talk to him about that. As much as he tried, that went over like a lead ballon. Dean was still too hurt by Sam’s recent words to want to accept any more. Then there was Jodi to take care of. By the time he and Dean were back in the Impala, on the road, he was exhausted but amazed that he was alive. Sam finally allowed himself to slip off to sleep, knowing that it was not the sleep of the dying.

What Sam didn’t realize, was that he had saved himself for once. Azazel’s demon blood that he had ingested so long ago had given him psychic abilities, but he had never understood why the blood had come out differently in each of the children. It was because of who they were. In Sam, the blood had resulted in visions and psychokinesis, because of his own strong will and control. That strength had seen him through the Pit to emerge with a soul unsullied by more than memories. That control kept him from gorging on demon blood, even when it was readily available. And that combined with his latent psychic abilities had forced Sam’s body to race to replace to blood he had lost. What should have taken 6 weeks, took a matter of hours. Each time Sam had prevented himself from passing out, he had used that iron control to survive something no other human could.


End file.
